Andy In Paris
by Amles80
Summary: AU. Andy lives with Nate in Paris, where she works as Jacqueline's second assistant and life is good. When Miranda Priestly shows up things begin to change – thanks to something bad that happens to Emily… or is it something good? The story alternates between Andy's and Emily's point of view.
1. I Love Paris

**Author's notes: This story has also been published on LJ (titled "French Runway"), up until chapter 2. Third chapter is almost finished. It will probably be four in total.**

Andy ended the call and put her cell phone down and looked at her boyfriend across the table. He didn't look particularly happy.

"What the hell was that about, at this hour? And what's with the English?"

Andy giggled. Her employer was French to the backbone and although her English was very good she rarely used it even with her American assistant.

"I don't know. That was Jacqueline; something about this business seems to make her nervous. She usually shifts to English when she talks about la Priestly. It's as if she does it unconsciously. I wonder what this woman is like!"

'This business' was a joint French/American _Runway_ project and the way Jacqueline made Andy work her ass off for it made it look more important than three Paris Fashion Weeks together.

Andy had never met Miranda Priestly but rumour had it that the two women didn't like each other, and some people also said that Miranda Priestly was a fashion icon in a way that Jacqueline Follet could only dream about being. Andy had her suspicions about the upcoming event; it wasn't so much a friendly collaboration between colleagues as a chance for her employer to prove that the French contribution to the project was going to be much better than the American side's.

"I still don't see why she has to call you in the middle of the night," Nate complained. "Even I am off my shift."

Andy often thought that she was lucky to have a boyfriend who, while he was profoundly uninterested in fashion, worked at one of the most fashionable restaurants in Paris. He knew what it was like to work your ass off for nothing more than to get one single little detail right; he knew that this detail could make the whole difference between disaster and success. He couldn't tell the difference between 'cerulean' and any other kind of blue but he knew everything humanly possible, this Andy was sure of, about food. He was a workaholic, too – wasn't all young, ambitious wannabe-star chefs that? – but he had a bit of a hard time coping with the idea that Andy never was off duty, when he could relax as soon as he was at home.

"Look," she said, "don't start complaining about my job again. I'm not even talking anymore, am I? Do you want a banana split?"

Nate tried in vain to fight back a smile.

"Trying to distract me with food, are you?"

He wanted a banana split. Yes, he was the chef of their little household, but if it was something Andy could make to perfection, then it was banana splits.

And unlike other people in the fashion industry, she didn't mind eating them either. _She_ knew she wasn't fat, no matter what the pictures in the magazine said, and Nate quite appreciated her curves in all the right places, too.

And even Jacqueline Follet appreciated her. Andy remembered their first meeting.

"Most girls who come to work for me," the editor had said, "want to become models, designers or fashion photographers. Or they want to eventually become me. I can see that you're not aspiring to the first profession mentioned, so which of the other ones is it?

Jacqueline's office was very spacious with big windows that let the daylight in. Andy had noticed the shelf with glass sculptures, the messy desk with paper all over it, the flowers – were they called freesias? – and the bags with designer names on them. Andy, too, wanted to have such an office one day. Not necessarily one that belonged to a fashion magazine, though.

"None of them," she said. "I want to become a journalist. I'd like to be a foreign correspondent."

"I see," Jacqueline Follet raised an eyebrow, "then what brings you here? Shouldn't you rather work at some newspaper? Do you even read _Runway_?"

"Sometimes," Andy said, deciding to be honest and not exaggerate. "Frankly, my French is not good enough to work as a journalist here but I think I could do a good job as your assistant, Madame Follet."

"It's Jacqueline," the French woman said, "and we'll see. You will start tomorrow, and you're going to work directly under Marie, my first assistant."

That was how it started. Just like that – and with some paper work – Andy went from being an exchange student fresh out of graduation from Sorbonne to working at _Runway_, a magazine she normally only read when she was at the hairdresser or in the dentist's waiting room. She did it for Nate – and for Paris. The perfect boyfriend was in the perfect city, so how could she not want to be there?

Andy's family at home had laughed out loud when she told them, of course. They had expected her to come home with a boyfriend with a sexy foreign accent, not some American dude who spoke very rusty French apart from the words related to food and kitchen work. Andy herself thought it was kind of funny that she had gone to Europe just to hook up with a countryman but hey, you don't get to choose who you fall for…

And most of all, she had fallen Paris. She loved how there was something unique to be seen in every part of the city, the old building and the bridges, the parks, she even loved the crammed métro and the masses of tourists strolling up and down Champs-Élysées. She knew that many people hated that, but Andy liked to see how cheerfully, seriously, strenuously, admiringly people walked up and down that long street to window-shop, or to spend lots of money, or to watch that great monument up there, or all of that…

Not that Andy had a lot of time to spend on people watching. She quite liked the sport, but her job didn't permit much idle strolling – wasn't Paris a city just made for that? – or sitting down in bars or cafés. No, she had to do what Jacqueline asked of her, and she was good at it, too. Jacqueline was a bit of a diva, hot-tempered at times, often stressed, and a little too obsessed with money, work and beauty – but who in the business was not? – but on the whole, not bad to work for. And Andy's French was getting better for each day, with every new and challenging situation.

Her career, and Nate's career, and their life together – everything seemed to go in the right direction. Not even the arrival of Miranda Priestly, the woman most people seemed to fear, gossip about and admire at the same time, could change that.

Or maybe it could…

* * *

Emily was always going to say that it was _fate_, not her own clumsiness (something she later heard Miranda suggest with a roll of her eyes) that made it happen.

It wasn't her fault that the phone started ringing. Miranda demanded that all phone calls should be taken care of at all times, and she had to manage holding far too many bags filled with scarves with only one hand because of the phone. Add to the equation that people in Paris obviously had no manners and drove their bloody cars like madmen and maniacs…

One phone call, one look too many at the bags instead of at the street, and one maniac who somehow mysteriously enough had managed to keep his driver's licence at least until then – that was all it took, and Emily was on her way to the hospital with a broken leg and bruises everywhere.

The pain didn't make her cry. The pain was nothing – but _Paris_! Paris was there, right outside the windows of the hospital. The windows on that floor couldn't even be opened. Why? What were they afraid of; that people who were victims of car accidents were going to be so depressed about not getting to see more of Paris than the airport, a taxi and a close-up of the hard street that they wanted to throw themselves out of the window?

Emily wasn't _that_ desperate, not yet. The guys in the ambulance spoke English, and Emily _thought_ the nurse said 'You're going to be alright soon!'… But maybe she said something else entirely, because then Miranda walked in, and what she said really made Emily want to throw herself out of the window.

* * *

Andy had heard a lot about Miranda but she hadn't been able to understand anything until she saw with her own eyes what happened.

Marie, Jacqueline's first assistant, was shocked, relieved and envious when Jacqueline decided to let her American colleague 'borrow' Andy and not Marie after the accident.

Andy was just shocked but she didn't know if the new turn of events was something to be proud or scared of – never could she have imagined such a thing, that somebody could 'borrow' another person just as easily as she asked for someone to hand her a pen. But just as easily, Andy was now Miranda's temporary assistant, and everything she thought she knew began to change.

She noticed the little things first. Miranda's hair was white and incredible. Her voice was low and calm and incredibly commanding. Miranda didn't smile. Miranda did not repeat herself. Miranda did not say thank you. When Andy tried to recommend museums and very Parisian, very picturesque cafés and lunch places, Miranda looked at her like she was out of her mind. Andy concluded that Miranda worked even in her sleep and didn't care about anything that wasn't related to fashion.

Nate did not understand, late that first night after working a day for Miranda.

"You say these things about her," he said, "as if they make her admirable?"

"I know," Andy nodded eagerly. "Isn't it strange? Miranda is not… not like a person I would like, normally. You know, she actually criticized the way I dress."

"What?" Nate almost threw himself over Andy in the couch and began to kiss her everywhere. "I can't believe it; you work at a fashion magazine and you're gorgeous. She's obviously crazy."

"Yeah." Andy giggled. "Obviously…"

But as impressive and opinionated Miranda was, Andy refused to let herself be intimidated by her. She was stubborn, she worked hard, she _knew_ what she was doing.

After a while she began to notice the more important things that hadn't been obvious at first. Maybe Andy thought she knew what she was doing, but Miranda felt it, in her fingertips, as if instinctively. She was incredibly talented, and that was the reason for her reputation.

"Instinct?" Miranda sniffed when Andy mentioned her thoughts. "Maybe, but also years and years of hard work. No one can come waltzing in from the street and think they know everything about this business. Even I had to start from the beginning."

Miranda paused and gave Andy a piercing look.

"You talk a lot, don't you, Andrea? You smile a lot, too."

"Uh… I guess so." Andy shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry?"

Miranda rolled her eyes slightly and turned away to look out of the taxi's window, but Andy had already noticed something more about her.

Her eyes were _incredible_. And the way she said 'Andrea' gave Andy a sort of funny feeling in her stomach. The way she said it made Andy want to keep talking just to be able to hear more of her voice, but she knew what was smarter, and kept quiet – most of the time – until she was spoken to.

When half a week had passed – though judging by the workload for all of them, it could have been two weeks – Andy noticed something else about Miranda Priestly. Her first impression had been false. Miranda did smile. It was just that she did it very discreetly, when she thought no one noticed, with her eyes.

Andy happened to catch her eyes once, and she saw. It made her realize that although Miranda did not say so, she was pleased with the work Andy did. The realization made her blush and her blush made Miranda look away.

But by that time, Andy had already realized that she was in love with the white-haired magnificent woman. She had been pulled in, little by little, from the very first moment without knowing it, and now she was helplessly stuck in something that was so much more than starstruck inexplicable admiration.

* * *

"Oh, I'm sorry – perhaps I didn't make myself clear, Doctor, uh…?"

"My name is Serena," the doctor said, "and yes, you made yourself perfectly clear. Yet I have to repeat what I have already told you, Madame: It is impossible for you to go back to work right now. Your boss has to understand that. Surely she wants you to do a good job, and the only way for you to do that is to let your body heal first, no?"

Emily stared at the doctor – what was a woman like that doing in a doctor's robe anyway, instead of being on the cover of _Runway_? – and spoke with all the Miranda-like ice in her voice that she could find within her.

"If you believe that, then clearly you don't know my boss. Nothing keeps you away from work, _nothing._"

"But – " the doctor began, but Emily cut her off.

"You don't understand!" To her own anger, the ice turned to tears. "She has already replaced me with somebody else."

"Oh, but in that case she'll be alright, then."

The doctor seemed to realize that she had said the wrong thing.

"I mean, I'm very sorry, but there is really nothing more I can do. You are very badly injured but you _will_ be able to walk again soon. I have patched you up, and now your own body has to do the rest. That's all."

Emily's tears got, surprisingly, the company of a laugh. _Wow. This woman says 'that's all' so gently, as if she's really… really sweet…_

"Yes." The doctor who called herself Serena smiled. "You understand now, don't you?"

"No." _I don't want to understand this, if I stay away too long I'll be gone forever as far as Miranda is concerned and I can kiss my career goodbye._ "No, I want to work and I want to _see Paris_. This is my first time here and probably my last…"

"I'll tell you what." Serena moved closer to the bed and put her hand on Emily's for a moment; her hand was warm and professional and also strangely _un_professional. "Under no circumstances whatsoever can you work as someone's assistant right now, but that does not have to prevent you from experiencing Paris. I'll admit that Paris isn't the most wheelchair-friendly city in the world, but I know the city, and I'll be happy to show it to you. If you want?"

The hospital room turned a little brighter, not that Emily was going to admit it.

"Okay." She nodded curtly. "I accept."

"Great." Serena was not discouraged. "I think you'll be ready to get out of here by tomorrow. Until then, just rest. Now you'll have to excuse me but I have other patients to see. _À bientôt!_"

_Other patients?_ Emily blinked. For just a moment, she had forgotten that Serena was her doctor.

_…Wait a minute… Did she mean – is this a date, or what?_

Emily shook her head – her neck hurt but just a little. No, that was impossible. A woman like Serena couldn't possibly want… Or could she?


	2. Champs Elysées

"Oh, but you know that's not likely to happen with such short notice." If spoken with conviction, reason usually worked with Jacqueline. "Just because my boyfriend works there it doesn't mean that I can…"

"But," Jacqueline interrupted, "I think Miranda would like it very much."

Andy nodded. Of course. Almost a week had passed, and she knew two things: Miranda was not unlikely to ask the impossible… And Andy was prepared to get it done for her.

She called Nate, and as she had suspected, he said no.

"Andy, do you remember what I told you the last time Jacqueline wanted a table here? When this restaurant is full, it is _full_, and I can't do anything about it."

"I know, but it can't be impossible. It's for Miranda."

"So? Is she the new queen of France or something?"

"No, but she is Miranda Priestly. She's even more important than Jacqueline. In New York…"

"She's not in New York now. This is Paris and nobody knows who she is. Everybody knows this restaurant."

"Everybody knows that restaurant," Andy said, making a last effort, "because all the VIPs like it because all the food critics adore it, and that makes your boss the greatest VIP of them all. But he still needs all the other VIPs to eat there and contribute to its reputation. He needs people like Miranda. He wants her there. Just ask him, please? For my sake?"

Nate agreed, for her sake – that made her feel just a little bit guilty. _Is it really okay to use my boyfriend just because I want to please another person?_

No, maybe it wasn't okay, but she forgot to think about it when Nate called her back fifteen minutes later and confirmed that there was going to be a table for Miranda Priestly that night.

The two editors were in the room that for the moment had no freesias in it.

"Excuse me," Andy said as she was going in, "I just wanted to say that I made the reservation for you like you wanted, Jacqueline."

"Excellent." Her boss smiled. "I knew you could do it for me." She winked, as if to say: _Or should I say 'for Miranda'?_ and Andy blushed.

She and Marie were not invited to the dinner, only the two older women went to the restaurant, but Nate told her later that night that both of them seemed to be very pleased.

"As far as I can tell, at least. I couldn't keep an eye on them the whole time. And with that white-haired lady it's a bit hard to tell, isn't it?"

"She doesn't exactly sing everybody's praise," Andy agreed, because it was true.

"She's pretty good looking for an older woman," Nate said, "but sort of terrifying, even from a safe distance."

That was all he had to say about Miranda, and then he wanted to snuggle and kiss and probably more, but Andy didn't feel up to any of it.

That night, she dreamed that she made Miranda a banana split, and Miranda thanked her by grabbing her and pulling her down on her lap. Andy wanted to kiss her and woke up the next moment with her heart beating hard. Her boyfriend was sleeping right next to her. She turned around from him and hid her blushing face in a pillow, not sure if she just wanted the memory of the dream to go a way or if she wanted to keep on dreaming.

* * *

"This…" Emily waved her hands to point out all of it and nothing specific; the trees, the flowers, the water, the statues, "is very flowery and… and French…"

Serena chuckled behind her, softening the sharp sound of the gravel under the wheelchair. They were in the Tuileries and Emily adored it. It wasn't her usual kind of pretty but perhaps the accident had made her softer somehow? She was not the kind of person to swoon at the sight of flowers and little birds.

"I'm glad you like it," Serena said, responding to the intent of the message rather than the words themselves, for which Emily was thankful, because 'flowery and French' didn't necessarily have to be a compliment, she realized.

They had walked through all of it – rather, Serena had walked; Emily was sitting – and now they were at the gates of the park. The gates were high with golden decorations and on top of the stone walls were things like winged horses.

Serena pushed Emily past all the people, and out to a very busy place with even more people, and cars and busses with masses of tourists.

"We are now at Place de la Concorde," Serena informed her, and told her about the huge black pillar – the obelisque – that dominated the place.

"Oh," Emily said, "that's Champs Elysées up there, isn't it?"

The famous street was like a gray band in the distance. Even from where they were standing they could see the Arc de Triomphe like a soft square, almost but not quite disappearing in the sun haze. It was far away, but seemed to pull at something within Emily, begging her to come closer.

"Oui," Serena replied. "You want to see it, don't you?"

"Oh!" Emily had been so taken by every new thing she saw that she had forgotten to think about what Serena wanted. "You're a doctor, you must have more important things to do than helping an invalid in a wheelchair…"

"Nonsense. There is nothing wrong with helping someone. I like to do this."

"I dislike being helped," Emily said, "generally. But, um… I don't mind it now, with you…"

The only thing she had regretted sometimes during the day was that Serena was behind her most of the time. Now, she was glad that the other woman couldn't see that she was blushing.

"Good," Serena said, and they crossed Place de la Concorde and began their journey up the street that was bordered with trees, and full of people.

It was even longer, though, than what it had looked like from down there outside the park. Here and there were small green newsstands and candy stands, some with food, too.

"Do you want a crêpe?" Serena asked, stopping in front of one of them and Emily had to admit that the scent was tempting.

"Um," she said, "carbs…"

"Well." Serena sniffed. "Too many carbohydrates wouldn't be good for anyone, like too much sugar, or too much of anything. But nothing should be exaggerated. A few extra carbs once in a while won't do you any harm, quite the opposite! The human body needs to be balanced."

"You're lecturing," Emily pointed out. If it was one thing she couldn't stand then it was to have her ideas about food contradicted.

"Sorry." Serena stood next to her and put her hand on her shoulder. "I didn't mean to. It's just that… You can't be in France without tasting the crêpes. Of course, the best thing would be a real crêperie in Bretagne, with cider, too…"

"Okay." Emily looked up at the woman beside her with a small smile. "I'll take one. I'll let you decide the filling."

Serena pushed Emily to the side where there was a green bench. She spoke English with just the slightest bit of accent but of course she ordered two crêpes in French. Emily liked to listen to her.

"Bretagne," she said as she accepted the warm and redolent food-offering, "Brittany, right? Tell me about it. What's it like?"

"Beautiful," Serena said and sat down on the bench so that they were on about the same height for once. "Especially if you like to watch the untamed ocean and the wild and hard cliffs above it, with the wind messing with your hair… I have an aunt who lives there. They say I'm a lot like her."

"Why, is she tall, beautiful, a good doctor and a very kind person?"

Serena laughed and if Emily wasn't mistaken, there was a hint of pink spreading over her cheeks.

"I was thinking more like single, weird and cat-loving…"

Emily, who quite disliked cats, wondered if love of cats was something that was possible to learn, just like accepting help from a near-stranger wasn't half as bad as could be expected. _Note to self: learn French, figure out what's good about cats, figure out what else Serena likes…_

There were many things she could say in response to Serena's comment. 'I'm single too', for one… She was starting to feel a little lightheaded. Not in an unpleasant way, not exactly, but it was confusing. She was thankful for the thin, golden pancake that was wrapped in paper. _No talking with food in your mouth!_

"I would like to see it some day," she mumbled. "Your untamed ocean…"

_Would Miranda give me enough time off work if I wanted to do that?_

Emily then realized that she hadn't thought about Miranda during the whole day, or about the stranger that Miranda so quickly had found to fill her shoes.

"I would like to show it to you some day," Serena said, and her eyes were unsettling. Too warm, too gentle, too open. _I'm not a gentle person, I'm not sweet, like you,_ Emily wanted to cry, but she didn't.

She said nothing, but the silence was not uncomfortable, and then they began walking again. Emily searched within her for any hint of guilt feelings for being coerced into eating carbs, but there was nothing, not really.

"Thanks for the crêpe," she said instead, and meant it. "Merci."

"You're welcome," Serena said, and there were all the boutiques to their left and right, and even more cars on the street than before, and the huge gray cube was coming closer and closer.

Emily and Serena had so little in common, next to nothing. Strange how they could have so much to talk about, to laugh about…

Finally, they were right in front of the big stone monument, and Serena, taking her assignment as a guide very seriously, told Emily all about it.

Was it time to turn back then?

"Thank you for spending the day with me," Emily said. "Do you really have time for this?"

Serena shrugged her shoulders as if it was an unimportant question.

"I made time for it. I took the day off."

"Why?" Emily blushed. "I mean, I'm glad you did, but…"

"I wanted to take the opportunity to get to know you." Serena sounded like it was the most natural thing in the world, and perhaps it was, because Emily felt that there _was_ some kind of connection between them and she could only hope that that was what Serena was referring to.

Again, their eyes locked, and then, Serena bent down and placed a kiss in the corner of Emily's mouth. Perhaps she had aimed for the cheek but Emily had flinched in surprise when Serena's face suddenly came so close. It made both of them blush.

"Should I not have done that..?"

"Oh, but yes…"

Emily blushed even more and Serena smiled.

"Time to go now…"

"Yes." Emily nodded. "I'm supposed to go back to New York tomorrow morning."

"Yes." Serena sighed and Emily wanted to get up from the wheelchair and run, in the opposite direction from where Miranda was, but she knew it was a silly thought. She couldn't. She had to keep doing her job – as soon as she could – and Serena had to stay where she was.

"I don't want to…" she began, as the same time as Serena said: "I wish…", and then they laughed.

_It hurts_, Emily observed in amazement, _but the pain is too sweet for me to want to be without it…_

* * *

Andy and Marie had been sent out on a task for their now two bosses, and they were almost ready to go back to the magazine. They were on the métro, two stations away from the stop where they were to complete their last errand.

Marie's cell began to ring with the signal that meant Jacqueline was calling, and she answered immediately.

"Okay, aha… Yes, Jacqueline. Very soon!"

It didn't take many seconds. Marie put the cell back in her bag and sighed.

"What is it now?" Andy asked.

"Coffee." Marie rolled her eyes. "You know, sometimes I wonder why they don't have at least three assistants… And I hear that Miranda is more than just a little picky about her coffee. So, you or me? Do you want to toss a coin?"

"No," Andy said, "it's alright. I'll get the coffee."

It didn't matter to her. Sure, a couple of years earlier, she couldn't have imagined that getting coffee would be part of her job description – she had imagined writing big newspaper articles on serious topics – but she didn't mind, really. Miranda and Jacqueline's work meant a lot to many people, and if they needed coffee to do a good job, then that meant that Andy's work mattered in the long run, even if she was just a small part of the picture. She wasn't going to be an assistant forever, but for the time being, she was totally okay with being one.

Especially if that meant spending some time in the presence of a person like Miranda. The project was almost done and Miranda – and the hospitalized real assistant – was soon going to leave the country. And then, Andy was not going to see her again.

"You don't look like you're alright." Marie glared suspiciously at her.

"No, I'm fine!" Andy quickly brushed away the tear that out of nowhere was finding its way down her cheek. "I just got something in my eye."

The train stopped, and Andy jumped up to take another line that would take her back to the office. She happened to know that she could get coffee right next to the métro station.

"This is where I get off," she said to Marie. "See you at the office."

Andy ran and elbowed her way in record time; the coffee was still scolding hot when she reached the office, where the two editors were alone behind closed doors. Miranda said something but Andy couldn't hear the words. Jacqueline's reply was more than distinguishable.

"No, you can't! That's out of the question. I forbid it. Yes, she is golden, but she won't agree!"

"Dear Jacqueline," Miranda said and now Andy could hear her better, "that is not your decision to make. It is entirely up to her."

"Nonsense! She is very loyal. Do you have a crush on her, or what is this absurdity about?"

"I am going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Miranda's voice was cold enough to turn the content of the paper cups Andy was holding into ice latte.

"But what is the matter with you?" The French woman's voice was hotter than hell in contrast. "Can't you find good assistant in your own country, do you have to take the one American girl who works for me?"

Andy gasped and nearly dropped the cups when she began to realize that the two women were arguing about her.

Miranda chose that moment to open the door and her step froze at the sight of Andy.

"Hi!" Andy grinned like a fool, probably giving away the fact that she had been eavesdropping. "I've got your coffee…"

"So I see," Jacqueline said. "That was fast."

"Why so surprised, Jacqueline?" Miranda took one of the cups from Andy's hands, opened the lid and took a sip from it. "Didn't you say yourself that she is golden?"

"Well," Jacqueline began, "quality and speed don't always…"

"The coffee is fine," Miranda turned on her heel and began walking down the corridor.

Jacqueline looked at Andy and raised an eyebrow.

"Really, the coffee is fine? How clever of you, Andrea!"

"Yeah?" Andy shrugged her shoulders. "How hard can it be? I happen to have learned how she likes her coffee, so what?"

"I think that's not the only thing you have learned…"

"I don't know what you are talking about," Andy began, but then the phone began to ring.

"Answer it," Jacqueline said; it was a superfluous command since Andy was the only assistant there at the moment, and she ran to the phone without looking at her boss anymore, but she heard a door shut unusually hard.

"Jacqueline Follet's office," she answered mechanically, trying to figure out what all the fuzz was about.

She was going to get the answer soon enough.


	3. The Dinner

"Andrea."

Andy didn't have to look up to know that the only person who said her name like that was Miranda. But of course, that was not why she looked up – to know who was talking to her – no, she looked up because she didn't want to be discrete anymore. This was Miranda's last day in Paris, except for a few hours next morning. Paris Fashion Week was still months away; Andy weren't going to see Miranda again until then. So she was looking at Miranda as much as she possibly could. She wanted to make sure that the visual impression was going to stay burnt into her brain for all the long months to come.

Miranda would have looked very serious – cold and haughty, even – if it weren't for a shade of pink over her cheeks that looked a little too natural and too bright for makeup.

"Have dinner with me tonight," Miranda commanded as soon as Andy met her gaze. "You pick the place. But the car is going to pick you up."

'The car' was actually one of Jacqueline's, but that didn't seem to be a problem. Miranda didn't give Andy the time to ask any questions before she walked away, and no time to decline of accept either, for that matter.

Not that Andy would have wanted to say no, not for anything in the world. It was just that it was Nate's day off, and she had promised him… _But he has to understand,_ Andy tried to convince herself, but to understand what? Her career? Or her heart?

Miranda wanted to talk about work, no doubt, but Andy still had a feeling that it was her heart that was at stake.

* * *

At the hospital on the other side of the city, Emily had no thoughts of her heart whatsoever. She only thought that unless she learned to walk again, she could kiss her career goodbye.

"It's getting easier now, isn't it?" said the nurse with an incredibly strong accent. "It doesn't hurt as much as before now, does it? You can do this!"

"Bloody hell! Fuck!"

Emily was going to go on, there was more to say, but she lost her breath when she swayed and thought she was going to fall, but the nurse caught her and helped her to the bed. Emily let the damned crutches fall to the floor.

"How's it going in here?"

Serena, just entering, sounded far too cheerful. Emily blushed – anger or embarrassment? – and clasped her hands, her fists were tight knots with sheets in them

"I can't walk," she announced.

"Oh, sure you can." Serena was still behind her at the door – why was she always behind? "I know it's difficult – thank you, nurse, I'll take over from here – but it is not impossible."

Serena walked around the bed, picked up the crutches from the floor and gave Emily a small smile.

"Come on, won't you try one more time? I'll catch you if you fall, but I don't think you are going to."

No, Emily did not want to fall. And she did not want to do any less than what Serena thought she was able to. She accepted the crutches and stood, carefully.

Emily walked around the room as the doctor was standing in the middle of it, all the time keeping her eyes on her patient. Emily did not fall; she was careful, but she was also shaking from the effort.

"Come, that's enough for now. Rest a little. You did well, Emily."

Emily went back to the bed and sat down, and her beautiful doctor sat down in a chair at her side.

"But I can't," Emily said. "I can't walk away from here."

_From you! We haven't even gotten to know each other yet._

Serena nodded quietly. Then she shook her head.

"But you have to. It wouldn't be right, it would be wrong of me to try to keep you here when there's no reason. No reason, except…"

Serena blushed and bit down on her bottom lip. Emily wanted to kiss her and she wanted to cheer and cry at the same time.

"Of course, I know that. But…"

A nurse came in and said something to Serena. Emily didn't know what exactly, but she didn't need to understand French to realize that there was some kind of crisis somewhere that needed the doctor's immediate attention.

"Sorry", Serena said, "gotta go…"

She was out of the door before Emily had time to say anything, and she could only hope that Serena would have time to see her again before she went home.

Emily sighed and tried to hold back the tears that were building up inside of her. She didn't want to cry, she _wouldn't_. As a distraction, she managed to put herself in the wheelchair by herself – thankfully it wasn't that hard; Miranda would complain if she were a complete invalid during the journey home – and she rolled across the room to the window.

Emily looked at Paris from above and wondered who that woman was whom Miranda had replaced her with. Was she good? Was she terrible and did she make Miranda miss Emily? Even just a little? Did the other woman think about her at all?

She couldn't know; she knew she was never going to ask.

* * *

Truth be told, Andy had forgotten the name of Miranda's real assistant. As soon as they had ordered their food and had their drinks at the table, Miranda began telling Andy what she wanted from her. Straight to the point, no small talk. Of course, Andy hadn't expected any less of Miranda.

"I want you to come and work for me in New York."

Andy's eyes went wide. She didn't know what she had expected, but this seemed too big to be true.

Except that she quickly realized that she should have known already.

"You have already talked about this with Jacqueline," she said.

The conversation – the argument she had overheard – she had been right, it _was_ about her. But it didn't make any sense. Why did Miranda want this?

"Why did you talk to her? You should have asked me first!"

Miranda seemed surprised, as if she had expected another answer.

"Well, I don't normally care what people think about my decisions, but I have no reason to want to stab poor Jacqueline in the back. You are a valuable employee and I simply wanted to warn her that she is not going to keep you for long."

"But…" Andy was lost for words. She knew Miranda was sure of herself, but this… "I haven't even accepted yet. I can't go to New York just like that; I have a life here, I…"

Andy stopped talking. Why was she talking like that? She wanted to be with Miranda, no doubt about it… but she couldn't help feeling that she was part of a game she didn't understand.

"Andrea," Miranda said with a strain to her voice as if she was trying not to lose her patience, "it is your career I am talking about. Yes, of course Paris is wonderful. And yes, French _Runway_ is good. But my _Runway_ is better, and New York is the place where everybody wants to be. You must know that."

Well, Andy wasn't so sure. According to her, Paris had its own charm, even if Miranda's magazine was slightly better and more important than Jacqueline's.

"I have a boyfriend here." Andy wasn't sure why she brought up Nate. Part of her wanted nothing more than to shout 'yes!' and accept Miranda's offer – what would it be like to work with her every day, to see her every day and know that she wasn't going anywhere? – but something about it felt wrong. Miranda asked her for the wrong reason.

Or rather, Andy's reason for wanting to accept was the wrong one.

"A boyfriend?" Miranda raised her eyebrow in a way that definitely made her opinion clear. "Andrea, like I said, I am talking about your career. I see a lot of potential in you."

Andy knew enough about Miranda to realize that she should be flattered, grateful even. The job Miranda offered her was one a million girls would kill for, she knew that. Normally, Miranda wouldn't have to ask and argue, normally it would be the other way around.

Miranda was quiet, and so was Andy. Time seemed to be standing still, but if Miranda was impatient, she hid it well. She sipped her white wine calmly, and their food arrived – both of them had skipped starters and went directly for the main course.

Andy thought about what her time with the American queen of fashion had been like. Miranda wasn't a woman who smiled, made jokes or small talk. She rolled her eyes, glared, sniffed, and made sharp comments. Rumour had it she could make grown men cry. She was admired but feared.

But Andy had caught her smiling. They had even had a few not work-related conversations, albeit brief ones. Andy knew she wasn't crazy; she had seen laughter in Miranda's eyes.

"I like you," she blurted out. She blushed and was surprised when Miranda's face was as calm as ever.

"I know," the older woman replied. "It is obvious that you are not afraid of me. Most people are, and if they're not, they are stupid. You are obviously not stupid, and you are not disrespectful, you are… well, you know what I mean."

Miranda looked Andy in the eyes in a way that told her that being liked was highly unusual but not a bad thing. Miranda did not disapprove. But how could she not?

"Miranda, I don't know if I have made myself clear…"

"Yes," Miranda interrupted. "I understand. I have seen the work you do. I want you to keep doing it for me. It is as simple as that."

Miranda's determined gaze was intense, and terribly confusing. She looked away after a long moment and turned her attention to her food, as if their discussion made perfect sense and there was nothing more to say.

"I…" Andy gulped and unlike Miranda she wasn't at all hungry. "I've always wanted to be a journalist. But I actually like the work I'm doing here. I like doing it for you, too. But I have never seen it as something permanent…"

"Oh." Miranda shook her head dismissively. "None of my assistants stay with me forever. Usually I fire them. But you… I could open many doors for you in the future."

Andy stabbed a piece of meat on her plate. Why was Miranda so impossible, refusing to see her point?

"Actually, I do want to work for you. I can understand all your reasons, and it's not like I'm indifferent or ungrateful, but like I said: I _like_ you. As much as I would like to say the opposite, I just can't work for a person I like."

Miranda chewed and swallowed before she replied, but this time she averted her eyes for a moment as if to hide something.

"Andrea, you are not making any sense. Are you saying that you prefer to dislike your boss? That is very strange, especially since you strike me as a person who actually does a better job if you… are content with things. Is liking someone not a good thing? I thought it was but… I'm hardly an expert."

"I don't mean 'like' like. I mean that I _like_ you."

_Oh my god_, Andy thought, _how much more embarrassing can this get?_

Miranda rolled her eyes and sighed.

"You sound like my children. Stop being so ridiculous about this. Has it never occurred to you that I might like that you _like_ me because I _like_ you too?"

Andy had hardly even touched her wine but she felt dizzy. And she felt, too, that something warm was building up in her heart, trying to burst it, and it was finding its way up to her eyes, and if she wasn't careful, they would spill over. Was it possible that this magnificent woman actually _liked_ her?

"But…" she stammered. "But that just proves my point…"

Well, sort of. Andy's point had been that it would, in the long run, be torture to work for a person she had unrequited feeling for. It would be wonderful, but it would hurt too much. Now, on the other hand, if the feelings were mutual…

"No," she said, "you are the one who is not making any sense. If we have feelings for each other" – it felt almost too amazingly strange because it had happened so quickly – "then you wouldn't offer me a job but ask me out instead. How can we work together if we want to _be_ together?"

"But…" Now it was Miranda's turn to look like she was lost for words. She also looked like she wasn't used to anyone talking back to her.

"I don't see the problem," Miranda said, finally. "You like me, I like you – it is highly unusual, but we work well together and that's what matters. This is extremely strange for me… Andrea, I am not used to opening up like this…"

Yes, of course it must be pretty hard for an ice queen like her to even try to open up. Miranda's voice died away, and Andy felt a wave of affection for the other woman. That, too, was extremely strange and nothing she would have expected a week ago, but now she decided to just roll with it, come what may…

"Miranda, I understand. And we barely know each other yet. I'm not saying that we should rush into anything…"

"Well, no, I suppose it's fair to Jacqueline to give her two weeks… although that kind of generosity is also highly unusual…"

"Wait…" Andy stared at the older woman, now visibly flustered, although passersby probably wouldn't notice because they did not know her well enough…

_Wait_, Andy said to herself, _am I saying that I know her?_

"Are you still talking about work?"

Miranda stared at her.

"Of course. Andrea, what do you think this whole conversation is about?"

Andrea sank back in her chair, exasperated.

"I don't know. I have no idea. Maybe about us confessing our feelings for each other? Or at least that's what _I_ am trying to do."

Miranda dropped her fork and knife and her gaze softened, just a little.

"Andrea, don't get me wrong. I understand what you are saying. And as strange as it is, it makes me very… happy… to know that you harbour such feelings for me. I have feelings for you, too, and I am glad that we've… confessed. But I am not a romantic. I am not the relationship type."

"I'm willing to drop everything, to leave my boyfriend for you…"

Miranda nodded, looking down.

"Yes, and that only after such a short amount of time. I can understand that for most people, that's a very big thing to ask. But I can only tell you how I feel…"

Andy waited for something more. When it didn't come, she said:

"Okay. I understand. I mean, for now, that's good enough for me. And I'm glad. I'm glad that you didn't leave Paris without letting me tell you how I feel."

"Well", Miranda said. "So, let's just enjoy our food now, then. And when we're done here, maybe we can… take a walk?"

"Sure!" Andy smiled. "Paris is beautiful at night."

"Thank you for dinner and everything", Andy said after a walk along the Seine. "I've got to say, this has been the strangest dinner meeting slash date ever…"

"Is that so?" Miranda looked thoughtfully at her. Exactly what she was thinking, Andy wouldn't know.

"I mean strange in an entirely good way, obviously."

"Obviously", Miranda echoed. After a moment, she added: "And we need to talk more, of course. We'll keep in touch via email."

"Yes", Andy nodded. "And chat, of course. Makes it easier to have something of a real conversation."

"Well", Miranda said, "we'll see."

She looked strangely… surprised, Andy thought. As if everything except 'yes' and 'no' answers were making her uncomfortable, even when she spoke for herself. Then again, Andy supposed the situation was unprecedented for both of them.

"Anyway", Miranda said, "I'll see you in, I suppose, about two weeks."

Andy stared at her.

"No", she said. "Haven't you been listening? There's no way I'm leaving that soon. I need to think this over, not to mention all the necessary arrangements…"

"I do not like to postpone things when there's no need for it", Miranda said.

"I know, and neither do I. So believe me when I say that I really do need more time. Besides, I think I'll need a new passport, I think it's about to expire soon."

"You're not serious."

Miranda looked at her in a way that made Andy feel she was reconsidering her plan to make Andy her assistant/girlfriend, or girlfriend/assistant, or whatever she was thinking.

"Yeah…" Andy shrugged. "I was going to fix it. But it's not like I've been planning on going somewhere anytime soon."

Miranda pursed her lips. She looked like she was mulling something over. Then her expression softened, and Andt would have given anything to know what she was thinking. Miranda sighed, as if she finally reached a decision and something heavy fell off her shoulders.

"Al right", she said. "Let's have it your way. The final decisions are up to you. And we'll talk about it later. That's… fine. I'm looking forward to it."

Andy smiled. It really wasn't like a normal date at all; all the emotions were conflicted and they talked about very big decisions, but on the whole, it still gave her a giddy feeling in her gut and… she was happy.

"So", she said, "a kiss before we say goodnight?"

That wasn't out of the place, was it? She wasn't sure, but Miranda nodded.

Andy brought her face closer, slowly. Miranda's lips were just as warm and soft as she had imagined, and more welcoming than she had dared to believe.

When Andy broke the kiss, Miranda leaned in for another one, and she deepened the kiss. Right then, Andy didn't doubt anything anymore.

Then they looked at each other. Andy waited for Miranda to say something; she was almost prepared for the standard 'that's all', but Miranda simply said:

"Goodnight, Andrea."

* * *

_One month later, Miranda Priestly's office…_

Emily blushed and let out a shaky breath. Her fingers trembled and she looked toward the glass doors. No sign of her colleague yet, and she knew that Roy was going to warn her if Miranda was on her way.

She turned her attention back to the little chatbox in the corner of her computer screen:

_**TheRealEmily:**__ I happen to be alone in the office right now, but fyi, it will probably not last…  
__**Aneres: **__Oh, I forgot, you're at work! __**blushes**__ I'm sorry…  
__**TheRealEmily: **__No, it's okay. Miranda's been acting so weird lately anyway, she'll probably not even notice, she seems to be completely lost in thoughts these days… What time is it over there, 10 pm or something?  
__**Aneres: **__Yes. __**sighs**__ I hate this time difference… I just got home from work. I wish you were here…  
__**TheRealEmily: blushes! **__Really, you do?  
__**Aneres: **__Yes, Emily. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I miss you.  
__**TheRealEmily: **__I feel the same… ah, brb, the phone!  
__**Aneres: **__:)_

"Miranda Priestly's office," she answered, and she really didn't listen much to what the person on the other end was saying, but somehow the autopilot managed to get the necessary information and she could get back to Serena.

It was difficult to chat during office hours, but her office hours were long, and there was no way Serena could chat at work, and she rarely could during her early mornings, when Emily finally was free for the night. Serena was a doctor, after all, she saved lives, couldn't afford to lose too much sleep.

So Emily gladly risked being caught in the act and decapitated for it. She had to take the risk. Working at _Runway_ was the best thing that had ever happened to her and she had always believed that she wouldn't jeopardize it for anything in the world. But that was before she met Serena.

Emily smiled behind her desk and if anyone saw her they would probably think she was finally going mad. She didn't care.

It was just so amazing. Serena had given her her email address and said she wanted to stay in touch, but Emily had not dared to believe that she truly meant it. She was going to get out of the hospital and out of Serena's life – that was what she had believed. But Serena had written to her, and they began to chat. Emily found herself looking forward to a new message from 'Aneres' and they began to talk about more personal things, things they hadn't had time for in Paris. Serena was so funny and smart and supportive and very often Emily found herself giggling in front of her computer very late at night, instead of going to bed.

That whole business with Andrea and Paris and all the crazy things that seemed to have happened there for Miranda, it was good to have somebody to talk to. And then…

Emily couldn't even explain it to herself. She didn't fall in love often. It rarely happened that anybody fell in love with her. Since she began working at _Runway_ she hardly even had the time to feel lonely and think about looking for love.

But isn't that what they say? 'Love comes when you least expects it' and all that? It appeared to be true, because it went against all rhyme and reason – they met in a _hospital_ of all places! She was too nervous to admit it at first; was it not just attraction, a silly doctor crush that can happen to people in a hospital because they're injured and their defences are weakened… But when she was back home again and they had begun chatting, Emily found herself falling in love and she knew it was more than a little crush. She began to try to think of a way to say it out straight to Serena, instead of just hoping and wondering and analyzing every word Serena wrote…

In the meantime, strange things seemed to go on behind the façade in the office. There were many reasons why Emily cursed the car that had hit her that first day in Paris, but because of her beautiful doctor, she was ready to forgive and almost thank that stupid driver. There was one detail in particular, though, that made her wish she had been with Miranda the whole time.

Miranda was acting kind of strange.

Miranda was always _special_, of course, and Emily had learned to live with her… eccentricities. It was normal that she wouldn't tell Emily if something was up if Emily didn't need to know; it was normal that she made unreasonable demands, and that she was impatient. It was _not_ normal that she seemed to have her thoughts occupied with something that obviously had nothing to do with the magazine.

Emily would have assumed it had something to do with the twins, some kind of serious trouble they were in, perhaps fatal illness… but then there was that little detail with those random smiles Miranda didn't even seem to be aware of.

As far as she knew, no one in the office had ever seen Miranda smile like that before. Add to that a certain jumpiness, something that suggested Miranda was nervous about something, but not exactly unhappy… Emily was flabbergasted.

Now, Miranda had even said thank you when Emily handed her the coat when she was on her way out. _Wow, isn't this surreal!_ Emily had to brace herself not to run out to the elevator and take a long look at her boss to see if she was having some kind of a breakdown. Miranda had said the words as if she didn't notice, as if she was operating on autopilot, and apparently, Miranda's autopilot was _polite_.

Emily shook her head and grabbed Nigel by the arm as he walked by. He nearly dropped a pile of photos but she ignored it.

"Hey," she hissed, "is it just me, or is Miranda… you know, is she..?"

Nigel raised an eyebrow.

"Is she not quite like herself anymore?", he suggested. "Yes, I have noticed… I don't know why, though. I wonder what happened back there in Paris?"

"Don't ask me. I was stuck in a bloody hospital from an hour after we arrived to about two hours before we left…"

"Emily, don't tell me you're still bitter over that?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I'm going back there someday to see it for real. I… I met someone, you see."

Nigel stared at her and looked like he was mulling something over.

"Good for you", he finally said. "I wondered… you did seem a lot happier lately. I've seen you smile sometimes, you know."

Emily blushed.

"Really? Well, I guess I'm just sort of in my own world sometimes. This is so new and also kind of scary, a long distance relationship and all…"

Emily blushed again. _A long distance relationship._ Was that really was it was, a relationship? Or was she overthinking it, hoping for too much too soon?

"Exactly", Nigel said. "That's normal behavior when you're in love. Absentminded smiles… Remind you of someone you know?"

Emily's jaw dropped for a second and she gasped when she got his point.

"No way! You're not saying… that Miranda met someone, too?"

"I wouldn't know", Nigel said. "I wasn't there and she's not telling me things like this, you know, so my guess is as good as yours. But it's a theory."

Emily and Nigel looked at one another and Emily thought they probably were thinking the same thing: _Who is this mystery person who can make Miranda smile?_


	4. So Far Away

Andy did not move out from the apartment she shared with her now ex boyfriend. Nate didn't want her to; he didn't want her to rush into anything. She agreed, sort of – she was a romantic, but not _that_ romantic, and what she had said to Miranda was true: She needed time to think and make arrangement. Besides, Nate was her best friend and he hadn't done anything wrong, so she felt she owed it to him to be gentle.

They went to see a movie one night. Afterwards she thought Nate had chosen it for tactical reasons. It was _Midnight In Paris_, a Woody Allen movie about a guy who traveled back in time to the Paris of his dreams and met all the great writers and artist of the twenties. Andy and Nate laughed because they were just like that guy; Americans who had fallen in love with Paris and enjoyed every little detail of it as if they were living in a fairytale.

It rained when they walked back home and that made Andy laugh even more.

"That guy in the movie was absolutely right. Paris is beautiful in the rain!"

"That's just because you're a romantic like him", Nate said. "But I disagree. What's good about rain? It's because you're stuck in the same fantasy about writing and living a bohemian artist life, walking the streets where Gertrude Stein once walked, and so on… I don't think like that. I love Paris because I'm happy here, doing what I enjoy the most. It just happened to be Paris that welcomed me and let me build a life here. I could just as well have been happy in Boston or Berlin…"

"Or Beijing", Andy added, still laughing.

"Yes", Nate replied, dead serious now. "But it's none of those places. It's Paris. I won't leave, ever. Everything is good here; I don't understand how you can want to leave just because of some old woman when you love Paris so much…" His voice died away but she heard the unspoken words: _and you used to say that you loved me…_

Andy and Nate crossed a bridge – the bridge from the last scene of the movie, wasn't it? – and Andy sighed and shook her head. Her hair was already soaking wet and she took her umbrella out of the bag.

Nate was right that she did like the vision of a writer's life in Paris, but at the same time, that was like a mental image that wasn't quite real.

"But it's like we're just playing", she tried to explain. "It's true that it's good to be here, but it's just a place and I can just as well write in New York. You're the one who is romanticizing Paris. I want my real life to start."

Nate took her arm and pressed himself closer to her so he could be sheltered by the umbrella, too.

"I don't understand you", he says. "It's like you're changing right before my eyes. I thought you wanted this" - he made a vague gesture with his free hand to the Seine or the streetlights or the rain – "but suddenly you're saying that it isn't real…"

Andy didn't reply. What could she say to make him understand, when she barely could figure it out herself? It had happened so quickly and without warning, but it was true that Miranda, during that short time they had spent together, had made her feel something Nate didn't make her feel anymore.

Or perhaps she had never truly felt it with him?

It made her want to cry when she thought about it. She wanted to cry because she knew she was hurting him, but also because she was afraid that Miranda's interest in her wasn't going to last.

But sometimes she was awake in the early morning and she hadn't even slept at all, because it was late in the evening where Miranda was, and it was almost only then that Miranda had time to be online and talk to her directly on the chat. Sometimes, Miranda wrote her short emails during the days, but chatting was so much better.

Miranda had kept her promise and didn't pressure Andy. But they also didn't talk about love. Miranda told her about her children and her dog, Patricia. Andy asked a lot of questions, and told her about her friends and her evening classes in creative writing and how challenging it was to write in French. They talked about literature and music and Andy sent You Tube links to videos with bands Miranda mostly hated but sometimes liked, and Miranda said she appreciated how Andy tried to widen her horizons.

All of it made Andy smile. Sometimes she laughed out loud and almost wanted to tell Nate about it, but Nate wouldn't understand and he would only be offended. Why did she care that much about the antics of a dog and two little children she had never even met? But Andy felt like she was getting to know Caroline and Cassidy through Miranda's words.

Between the lines there was affection, and even attraction, but it still made Andy want to cry sometimes, when she wondered if maybe Miranda was happy with the way things were, if she had forgotten that she had wanted Andy to be closer. She knew it didn't make sense to be sad because she was the one who had said no when Miranda had wanted her to come immediately…

* * *

"Miranda, I'm sorry, it took me a moment to find this, but here it… is…"

Emily's voice died away. She knew that she talked too much and too quickly when she got nervous – and being a minute late with something still made her nervous; this was Miranda she was working for! – and Miranda never hesitated to interrupt her with just one hard look, sometimes followed by a harsh word.

But this time, her boss didn't say anything and she didn't even look up, as if she didn't need that folder anymore.

"Um, Miranda?"

The rule was: Never ask Miranda any questions. But that wasn't a question, was it?

Without looking up, without a word, Miranda extended her right arm and Emily walked up to the desk to put the piece of paper in her waiting hand. Miranda then looked up for a moment and Emily froze in astonishment before she very quickly looked away.

No, Miranda was not crying. But her eyes were shiny, watery, a bit red, as if she was about to burst into tears any minute. Emily didn't doubt that Miranda would kill her on the spot if she stayed there to witness it.

"That's all," Miranda said, and Emily didn't need to be told twice to get out of the room.

* * *

_**Mpriestly:**__ So, you don't feel very talkative today, do you?  
__**Parisandy:**__ No. Sorry.  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Is someone else there with you?  
23:49  
__**Parisandy:**__ Yes.  
23:50  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Okay. Why don't we say goodbye for now, then.  
You can get back to me when you feel like giving me more than one word answers again.  
__**Parisandy:**__ I'm sorry! I'm just going through a hard time right now, that's all.  
__**Mpriestly:**__ I understand, but why don't you want to talk to me about it?  
Is it because of something I said?  
I know that I don't always say the right things, I'm not good with words… I'm sorry.  
__**Parisandy:**__ No, it's not about that!  
It's not your fault, please, don't think that, Miranda.  
23:52  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Okay. If you say so.  
I've got to go, I have work to do. See you… Goodbye._

Miranda logged out of the chat before Andy had time to type anything more. Andy's head fell down on the desk and she muttered inappropriate words between her teeth. Miranda was hurt. Even through the internet, voiceless, imageless, she could feel it, and she groaned.

It was difficult enough with Nate, to live with him without being his girlfriend. He didn't understand why anything had to change. A long distance relationship with another woman? He didn't understand it, he didn't see the point, and naturally, he was not thrilled about living with a girl who didn't want to have sex anymore, who didn't even want kisses or hugs. Andy could understand that he was hurt.

And now, Miranda was hurt, too. Because Andy didn't know how to talk to her about… stuff. They didn't know each other that well yet. She _adored_ Miranda, that much was obvious, but what about the rest? She _did_ still have feelings for Nate, or at least she thought so, sometimes. And she loved living in Paris, and Jacqueline wasn't a bad boss, and how was she going to explain it all to her parents?

She wasn't even sure about what Miranda wanted. Did she want a girlfriend, or did she really just want an assistant who could work harder and better than any other, just because no one else could understand her the way Andy could? They had had a week together. A week when Andy had worked for her, followed by one dinner date/job interview, a walk and a kiss… and a couple of months of chatting. Was that enough, enough to know for sure?

Andy sighed deeply and wanted to… she didn't know what; scream, break something. It was _too soon_ to think about her parents, about the future. And yet she had to think about it, because Miranda was on the other side of the Atlantic ocean, and if Andy wanted to be with her, she had to make certain big and difficult decisions…

She looked up again – she thought she must have a mark on her forehead from where she had hit the desk – and saw that the chat was blinking furiously in the corner of the computer screen. Miranda had logged back in without her noticing it, the sound was turned off.

_23:59  
__**Mpriestly:**__ What if I come to Paris? Will you talk to me then?  
I could do that, you know. I would.  
00:02  
__**Mpriestly:**__ ?  
00:03  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Andrea, I know you're there. I can see that you're still online. Should I not have said that? Don't you want me to come? If that's how you feel, just say so.  
00:05  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Andrea, where are you?  
00:06_

Andy's heart was beating hard. Everything felt so easy all of a sudden, and so complicated.

_**Parisandy:**__ Yes! __**smiles**__  
I'm sorry, I looked away for a moment, I didn't notice you came back.  
00:07  
__**Mpriestly:**__ So you want me to come?  
__**Parisandy:**__ Yes, I would like that. I would like that a lot. __**smiles**__  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Good. We'll talk about it later, now I really have to get back to work. And you should get some sleep now, shouldn't you?  
__**Parisandy:**__ It's past midnight. But I don't care.  
__**Mpriestly:**__ You should care. And if you don't care, I do – for Jacqueline's sake. Goodnight, Andrea.  
__**Parisandy:**__ Goodnight…_

Andy let her fingers rest on the keyboard. Her fingers itched to keep on typing. Miranda wanted to come to her, just like that, hop on a plane and come, completely not work-related, but come to her! Andy wanted to type 'I love you' but she didn't dare.

She typed it anyway, but didn't send. She typed it and deleted it, twice…

_00:11  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Andrea, what are you typing? I can see that you are typing something. Send it or go to bed!  
__**Parisandy:**__ I'm on my way!  
But you're not logged out yet yourself… Go to work, Miranda!  
__**giggles  
Mpriestly: **__Silly girl…  
__**Parisandy:**__ Yes…  
00:12  
Miranda… Thank you.  
For coming.  
You make me happy.  
00:14  
__**Mpriestly:**__ I am glad to hear that.  
Because I want to do that.  
Make you happy.  
__**Parisandy: smiles**__  
00:16  
__**Mpriestly:**__ I have got to go now. I have a meeting.  
And you should go to bed.  
__**Parisandy:**__ Yes. Are you giving the computer screen a Dragon Lady glare right now?  
Sorry. I don't mean to keep you from your meeting.  
I'm going to bed now!  
__**Mpriestly:**__ Goodnight, my Andrea. Sleep well.  
__**Parisandy:**__ 3  
00:17  
__**Mpriestly:**__ You make me smile. Goodbye._

Miranda was logged out, and Andy did the same. Nate was not home yet so Andy could take the bed… but she went to the couch instead.

She hadn't said 'I love you' but she had sent Miranda a little heart and the chat turned it pink. What did Miranda think of that? Something, obviously, because she hadn't replied immediately… but then she said 'You make me smile' and Andy knew from experience that that was something big, coming from Miranda.

_She is coming back to me!_ Andy's heart was singing. She knew that it meant that things were getting really serious. She knew that things had happened very fast between them.

But she felt ready for it.

* * *

The office was buzzing with whispers, with rumors, with half-baked theories and wild guesses. Why was Miranda going to take a whole week off?! It was strange, and perhaps even worrying – could it mean that the magazine was in danger, that the ship was sinking, that the captain didn't care anymore? They did live in troubled times, after all… On the other hand, if something like that was happening, surely someone other than Miranda would know about it? Perhaps she was going through some kind of private crisis, having trouble with the kids, having a nervous breakdown? Or perhaps she was _in love_?

Some people even set up a betting pool.

Emily didn't take part in the office gossip. She couldn't care less about what Miranda was up to; it only troubled her that Miranda was obviously up to _something_, because she figured that would weaken her already very weak chance of getting a week off herself.

Even fully aware of this, Emily felt that she had to take the risk of asking Miranda for a short leave of absence. Serena wanted to visit her in New York. Even if Miranda was going to be angry at her for asking, she _had to_ do it.

"Yes, I don't see why not", was Miranda's unexpected reply to the request. "This is not a particularly busy time of year anyway. You may take a week off next month."

Emily couldn't believe her ears. When were they not busy at _Runway_? Normally, Miranda would be hard-pressed to give anyone leave to go to their mother's funeral, but Miranda hadn't even asked for a reason.

"Um, who are you and what have you done to my boss?" Emily said, and she instantly wanted to bite her tongue off and sink through the ground.

"Excuse me?" Miranda said, and a cold winter's breeze from Siberia seemed to sweep through the room. Despite the suddenly so cool atmosphere, Emily blushed and felt hotter than hell. What was she thinking, saying something like that? Even if Miranda had been mysteriously replaced by an identical twin who did unpredictable things, this twin knew how to play her part…

_Oh my god, stop thinking these ridiculous thoughts!_ Emily tried to tell herself.

"I'm so sorry, Miranda, thank you so much!"

"That's all", Miranda said, and she was absolutely right. Emily just wanted to forget about the boss, about her work; she wanted nothing more than to run to the computer and officially invite Serena to New York and tell her to buy the tickets immediately.

There was, however, a setback when she told Serena the great news the next day, a Saturday when Serena wasn't at work.

Serena's reaction was not the expected one.

_**Aneres:**__ Oh, Emily, I don't know what to say…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ Um… How about 'yay, I'm so happy!' or something like that? ;)  
11:31  
__**Aneres:**__ I am happy that you want me to come to see you in person. I'm glad it's possible, except… it's really not. That's why I'm unhappy right now.  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ What's that supposed to mean?  
__**Aneres:**__ I can't afford it, Emily. You know it's a long trip… across the Atlantic ocean and all. I'm sorry._

Emily mulled this over as the world around her turned pitch dark; the hope of seeing Serena again had been the light that had illuminated her whole life for months, and then… How could this happen? It was a terrible blow. Emily felt drained, as if her heart truly was bleeding and spilling all her blood out on the floor.

One minute followed another...

_11:35  
__**Aneres:**__ Say something…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ But I don't understand. We've talked about this before. You said you _wanted_ to come.  
__**Aneres**__ I did! Because I do!  
Oh, Emily… __**sighs**__ I'm sorry; I know this must be hard for you. It is for me as well. I don't know what to say. I guess I… didn't really expect it to be possible, with your boss and everything…  
11:37  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ so it's really impossible?  
__**Aneres:**__ Yes…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ Why? I mean, I don't want to pry into your finances, but… you have a good job; you're a doctor…  
__**Aneres:**__ Yes, but I have responsibilities, other people to think about. I can't afford to spend that kind of money on airplane tickets.  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ serena, do you have kids that you haven't told me about?!  
__**Aneres:**__ No! Emily, no, it's not like that. But my family is… poor, to be honest. My mother's job isn't very well-paid, and my father is unemployed. I have two younger brothers who are still teenagers. I don't _have_ kids, but in a way, they sort of _are_ my kids… you know this; I've told you that I practically raised them, so…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ Yes, I get it!_

_Wow_, Emily thought. _I didn't see this coming…_ Serena had seemed to want to be with her in person again, hadn't she? Why hadn't she mentioned that it was just a dream? Was it that she didn't take it seriously, that she didn't want it as much as Emily had believed? Or did she want it so much that she had tried to make the truth go away by refusing to think about it? If that was the case…

_11:41  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ What if money wasn't an issue? If you did have the money, would you want to come?  
__**Aneres:**__ Yes, of course.  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ Then how about this – I'll pay for your trip and all your expenses. I can do it, Serena. I want to do it; I want you to be here with me!  
11:44  
__**Aneres:**__ I don't know what to say, to be honest. The thought that you would spend that kind of money on me…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ I'll be happy to do it! I'd do anything for you.  
__**Aneres:**__ The thought of accepting such a generous offer is… painful to me._

Emily stared at the computer screen. It was becoming blurry because her eyes were filled with hot, prickling tears. So it was _painful_ to Serena? What about Emily's pain?! She chewed on her lower lip, bit it hard, trying to stop herself from crying violently, from hyperventilating.

_11:47  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ It is not generosity, it is love. Can't you see that? Your family accepts your money because they love you and they know that you love them. I just want to do the same thing for you. Why is that so painful? I love you.  
__**Aneres:**__ I love you, too._

The words on the screen didn't have any sound, but to Emily, it felt like they were shouting out loud. So Serena did love her?! They had finally confessed their true feelings, and it wasn't just for fun, just a game?

_Everything has to be easier from now on_, Emily told herself, and her heart was beating hard, hard, inside her chest.

She confessed that she was crying, just a bit, over at her side of the Atlantic. But it was another kind of tears… warm, happy tears that didn't sting; she didn't feel them at all, except for the wet traces they left on her cheeks

_**Aneres:**__ I'm crying, too.  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ I'm also blushing like crazy…. :)  
__**Aneres:**__ So am I! I love you, Emily…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ I can't believe it. __**smiles**__ I've finally said that I love you! And you… __**blushes**__ You feel the same way? __**blushes**__  
__**Aneres:**__ I do! And I wish I could hold you right now… I wish I could see your face…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ Oh god, no! ;) My face is wet and flustered; I probably look like a maniac…  
__**Aneres: laughs softly**__ That makes two of us…  
_

Emily had to look away, and breathe, and wipe her face and try to compose herself, if that was at all possible. Something about her was about to explode, or had exploded already: happiness and pain and overwhelming joy and fear…

_11:59  
__**TheRealEmily: smiles through the tears**__  
12:00  
__**Aneres:**__ I'm glad we've finally confessed. When did you know?  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ That I love you? It happened gradually, I think…  
__**Aneres:**__ I think I fell in love with you right from the start.  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ Ohmygod, Serena… __**blushes**__ I don't know what I've done to deserve you… I'm happy…  
__**Aneres:**__ Me, too. It's a bit scary, though. I mean, because we are so far apart…  
__**TheRealEmily:**__ I know. __**sighs**__ I am happy right now, but… I am also unhappy, because the thought of accepting my money is so painful to you. I just wish that you were here.  
12:05  
__**Aneres:**__ Yes. And… the thought of not being with you is even more painful…_

Emily stopped breathing for a moment. Did it mean what she thought it meant?

_**TheRealEmily:**__ So you'll do it? You accept?  
__**Aneres:**__ Yes!_

And that was it, except for arranging all the details, which happened in a sort of haze and Emily was grinning like a fool.

She wasn't sure about what was going to happen, she wasn't sure about anything, but she knew that she felt more alive and more hopeful than ever before, and she knew that nothing was ever going to be the same again.

With a corner of her mind, she was afraid that she was hoping for too much, that it might be different when she finally met Serena in person again, but she couldn't bring herself to actually believe in that little doubtful voice inside of her. It was just her low self-esteem talking; if Serena said she love her, then she did.

A line from a poem Emily had read a long time ago in some old book overshadowed the silly doubt: _She is coming, my dove, my dear; she is coming, my life, my fate…_

* * *

**Author's Notes**: To be honest, I had no idea that the poem Emily is thinking about is that long! But I just looked it up… I have only ever read this part, as it's quoted in Virginia Woolf's _A Room of One's Own_:

There has fallen a splendid tear  
From the passion-flower at the gate.  
She is coming, my dove, my dear;  
She is coming, my life, my fate.  
The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"  
And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"  
The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"  
And the lily whispers, "I wait."

From _Songs From Maud_, by Alfred Tennyson.


End file.
